A New Age
by Irishandveryproud
Summary: After The Second Great War The Empire has entered an age of prosperity and peace, however this story isnt about hero's or soldiers. "Mahfaeraak" the newest criminal organisation led by Loki is ready to take the Empire by storm. Greed, money and envy become entwined with courage and honour in this story of one man and one organisations rise to fame and power, but at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

Brynjolf walked through the bustling city streets of Riften. Thousands of drunken revellers and other partygoers thronged the streets from the docks to the market and city centre. It was the ten year anniversary of the "Second Great War".

Smiling to himself as he navigated his way through the dancers and drunks Brynjolf's mind was wrenched back to the chaotic days of the war that had dragged Tamriel into chaos. Turning a corner he found himself in the city centre where the party was really kicking off.

Thousands of citizens, guards and newcomers had taken to the streets to celebrate. Wine, beer and mead flowed like a river in the street with new barrels being brought out every minute to fill the tankards of the ever thirsty citizens. Stall vendors wandered through the crowds selling sweet meats and other treats and pickpockets were making a killing. Trumpets flared, drums beat and the crowds began to sing, the whole atmosphere was breath-taking and this was just Riften. Celebrations like this were happening all over the Empire.

An explosion of colour and light nearly made the old thief jump out of his skin, turning around he saw a group of mages who must have come from Winterhold were putting on a breath taking lights display in the sky, they mutterd incarnations under their breath and sent brightly coloured balls of light into the sky that would explode after a few seconds in a blinding flash of light and colour. A chorus of cheers rose from the crowds after a particually dazzling explosion.

Sighing to himself Brynjolf hoisted himself onto an empty mead barrel and looked across the crowd and at the sky,

"It's a fine age to be alive" he muttered.

"Hey there" called a young Nordic woman who caught his eye, the girl looked barely into her twenty's with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Old enough for me" the thief thought to himself and smiled, jumping off the barrel.

"Want to dance?" querried the young girl.

"It would be an honour lass" Brynjolf smoothly replied.

Smiling the girl took him by the hand and led him to center of the crowd where the music and singing was the loudest. As they danced Brynjolf looked into the lass's eyes and felt happy and content, just before the dagger pierced his flesh.

Gasping in pain he fell to the ground clutching his stomach. The part continued all around him, everyone blissfully unaware of the wounded man in their midst. The young girl knelt down beside the dying man to whisper into his ear,

"Loki dosen't want to share Riften"

She than slit his throat and hyrridly tucked the knife into her skirt and disappeared into the crowd.

So amidst the drunken revels of a city in celebration the old guild master lay in the gutter, his blood flowing through the cobble stones of the city he used to control.

(Quick thing this is just an intro I want to see who's interested in this new criminal organisation, please review, reviews are whats gonna keep me making this story, thank you)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

(Sorry for any confusion this is not a crossover, Loki is my own character, now to the story.)

**Rolo, West Road leaving Winterhold.**

"Right that will be ten thousand septims, five thousand for the axes and another five thousand for the swords" Rolo said with a smile.

Rolo was an old tall Nord in his forty's, he had blood red hair and a huge beard of the same colour to match. He had joined "Mahfaeerak" three years ago, he had met Loki while he was on leave in Falkreath it was in the local tavern where Rolo was convinced to desert the legion and thanks to his connections to the weapon factories of Cyrodill he had become Loki's arms dealer.

Now here he was selling weapons to terrorists. Speaking of terrorists, there was a group of fifteen of them standing in front of Rolo and his men. All of them wore the traditional armour of the storm cloaks. Most of them wore strips of blue cloth over their mouths to hide their identity. The leader of the group wore the officers armour with the bearskin cloak and cap worn by all storm cloak officers.

"How many are in each crate?" asked the officer.

"One hundred of each type"

Rolo swiftly replied taking a steel sword from one of the crates and giving it a few swings to serve as an example. The officer nodded to two of his men who began to approach the crates, this movement attracted the attention of Rolo's guards who drew their swords and levelled them at the storm cloaks.

"Boys, three years of business and you still don't understand, you give us the gold we give you the weapons, in that order" Rolo said gesturing for his men to stand down.

The officer grunted and called to one of his men to fetch the chest, the young soldier returned dragging a large locked chest behind him.

The officer bent down to unlock the chest and showed the gleaming pile of gold to Rolo who smiled politely and told one of his guards to retrieve the chest. When the chest of gold was safely loaded onto a sturdy cart pulled by two horses the storm cloaks approached the pile of crates picked them up and took them to their own camp. The sale was complete.

Before the officer left Rolo called after him. "Before you go I have another deal if you are interested".

"Go on brother Nord" the officer replied his curiosity piqued.

"four hundred ebony arrows and ten ebony bows, those things can cut through a legates armour like butter, your competitors in Winterhold won't be able to protect themselves from weapons like those" said the slick salesman with a smile.

"How much?" asked the officer raising an eyebrow.

"My organisation won't charge a thing, all we ask is that your people will do a few delivery's of some important cargo over the next few months for us".

"The council will have to vote on this but firstly, what will we be delivering exactly?" the officer asked warily.

With a smile that seemed to split his face Rolo replied with only one word.

"Skooma".

(Please review and if you want to message me please do and I appreciate advice if you have any il gladly hear it, thank you and please review!")


End file.
